


Ar Lath Ma

by Viking_woman



Series: Tales of the Inquisition: Iwyn Lavellan Canon [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Love, Redemption, Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viking_woman/pseuds/Viking_woman
Summary: After he took her arm, she does not come at him with armies of wrath. She does something more dangerous. She loves him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Elvish is kept to minimum, should be familiar enough from the game. 
> 
> Ar lath ma - I love you  
> Ir abeles - I'm sorry  
> Vhenan - heart (as an endearment)
> 
> While this is part of the collection for Iwyn Lavellan, this is completely stand alone, as a Fix it piece for all your Solavellan tears.

She does not come after him, or his agents as he expected. There is no attempt to infiltrate his outposts, or learn of his plans.  
No, as the inquisition shrinks, she spends her time differently. She sends help to the villages in the Exalted Plains so they can recover from the war. She has tea with Queen Anora. She visits the alienage in Denerim, and allegedly helps someone find their lost cat.  
  
He is puzzled. He had expected her to – what, track him down? Investigate him? Oppose him? Wasn’t this what he wanted; the Inquisitor doing what she could with the time she had left, continuing her path?  
  
She takes a break, visits the Ambassador in Antiva. They drink wine and laugh together, his agent informs him. He misses her laugh.

She visits the Commander and helps him with the former Templars. He has a hard time getting any reports here. He is not thinking about whether she seeks comfort in the arms of Cullen Rutherford. He does not think about that at all.  
  
He decides to visit her dreams, prowling in the peripheral of her consciousness. She is not meant to sense him, but of course she does. The first time, she turns and gives chase, and he quickly slips away.

The next time she does not turn. He thinks he is better at hiding this time, but then she whispers, “ar lath ma, Solas”.

 He wakes, gasping for breath like a drowning man pulled from the sea.  



	2. Chapter 2

He can’t stay away; he keeps coming back to her dreams. She never turns again, but she keeps talking to him.

“Ar lath ma”, she says.

“Come back home”, she says.

He never replies, always stalks as a wolf at the edge of her dreamscape.

As he keeps coming back, and she starts to tell him about little things in her life. How Leliana names her nugs. How pretty Sera looked in her wedding dress.

“Ar lath ma, Solas”. Always. The words make him shake.

The Inquisitor continues to use her diplomatic influence to keep peace.

She has tea with Madame de Fer and the head of the College of Enchanters. She keeps peace between them, implores that they should work together for the good of all mages.

He gets the report of her effort from the agent who served the tea. She tells Fiona and Vivienne that any mage should be able to choose their own path, their own allegiance, and that they should always be welcome to change their mind. It is never too late to change your mind, she told them.

There is break in the report, almost as if the agent was hesitant to continue, but the report goes on. _She looked right at me when she said that last part_ , it says _. I’m sure it means nothing, but maybe I have been compromised._

It is never too late to change your mind.

It is probably a coincidence. She has done nothing to identify or remove agents.   It cannot be a message for him.

He reassigns the agent.  



	3. Chapter 3

Still she has not sent one agent after him, or tried to stop his own. He is sure the Inquisitor, the Seeker and the Divine meets in secret, but he has yet to find out where and what they discuss.

He is ruthless though, and undermines her when he can. She tries to get the Dales under control of elves, but a riot in an alienage soon make Orlesian nobles afraid.

When he sees her in the fade, her shoulders are tense, her body rigid and angry. He prowls closer than usual and thinks she will not say anything this time.

“Ar lath ma”, she says a moment later.

He doesn’t know how she can do this, and it unnerves him.  
  
An agent comes back from The Exalted Plains with one of his artifacts. He needs them – and he hopes she hasn’t caught on, because she knows where all of them are.

“My Lord Fen’Harel”, the agent begins carefully. He does not enjoy hearing the title. “There was a note, at the artifact. It is addressed to you. “  
  
A folded piece of parchment, _Fen’Harel_ in slanted script on it, clearly by her hand. He dismisses the agent and looks at the folded paper. Opens the note, slowly.

  
_Solas, my love._

 _I know you still think you must do this, but this world is real. Help me make it better instead. Will you not miss Varric’s tales and Cassandra’s conviction? Sera’s antics and Thom’s dedication? Are those not things that deserves a chance?_  
_I love you Solas, and I think that, maybe, you deserve some happiness too. Please come back. It is not too late to change your mind._  
 _Please, vhenan._

The note is not signed, but it does not need to be. He is trembling by the time he has read it twice. He crumbles it, and goes to toss it in the fire. Nothing good can come of this. Too much have already been started. There is only one end. He takes the note to his desk, smooths it out. Sighs, and tucks it in his shirt.


	4. Chapter 4

After, he does not seek her in the fade. He misses her, but he cannot go. He is afraid what he will do if her sees her.   
His nights are lonely, and he tries to fill them with dreams of Arlathan, crystal spires and magic streaming freely. He walks familiar paths, and thinks about how it felt, and how it will feel, soon.   
The feeling is fake and empty, in a way nothing in the fade ever was.

An agent brings a report of the Inquisitor being injured, status unknown. She was fighting bandits in the Emerald Graves, bandits preying on humans and a Dalish clan alike. Why was she fighting, an archer with one arm? She was brought unconscious and bleeding to the nearest camp, the agent can’t tell more. The camp is very small, all people scout Harding has known for years, there is no way to get any of his people in.   
  
He worries. She hasn’t left the camp in a few days and her people are tight lipped. She is a symbol and cannot be seen as weak. He wonders if Celene would be able to hold Orlais without her. If Leliana would be ousted from the Sunburst Throne.   
  
He doesn’t want to think about how much easier it would make things for him. In more than one way.   
  
Unsettled, he finds her in the fade. She is resting in the shadow of a tree, the leaves above her gently swaying in the breeze. He is relieved to see her, but he still doesn’t know how badly she is injured. Here she looks fine, and he marvels at her control of the fade.

He whispers her name and realizes that in his hurry he has forgotten to walk on four legs. He stands before her as himself when she opens her eyes.

She looks hesitant, but then she smiles and pushes herself up to lean against the tree.

“Solas, come and sit”, she says.

He does.   
  
“I…” he hesitates, “I heard you were injured”.

“Ah. Yes, your agents must have told you. I am surviving, as you see?”

Just surviving – that is concerning. “You should not take unnecessary risks.”

“Well, that is not your call to make, Solas.”

“True. Ir arbelas.”

“I am happy that you will speak to me. I trust you got my note.”

“I did.” He does not want to talk about the note, or its content. “I do wonder why you left the artifact intact?”

“I do not wish to fight you, Solas. I love you. I do not wish to see you agonizing over lives wasted.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I love you. But how can you love me without loving this world? I saved everyone in it. ALL of them, not just the elves.”

She doesn’t say that she saved them from his stupidity, but he hears it all the same.

“How can you not see they all deserve to live?” she continues. “Please, Solas, it is not too late. Let us find another way to make this world better, moving forward. Please come home.”

She touches his arm gently. The touch burns like the sun.

“I can’t, I am sorry. I can’t… I should not have come here.” His temper is flaring, suddenly. “I MUST do this! You don’t understand! This world is WRONG.” He is aware that he is yelling now, on his feet.

She jumps to her feet too, yelling now. “You made this world Solas. You made us what we are, now! Whether you like it or not. You say you are not a God, but you sure are acting like one! You didn't like what this world has become, so you decided to discard everything. Like a petulant child throwing away a broken toy! “

He stands there, speechless – she called him a child!

She sighs, deflates slightly. “I wish you could see that it is better to move forward, vhenan. Please, give us a chance. “

Then she is gone.


	5. Chapter 5

He wakes up, and anger burns his throat, tears stings his eyes. Her words were cutting, like a knife rending flesh from bone.

He is furious of her accusations, yet afraid she is done with him. He should be glad; he has tried to push her away. He has not succeeded, and that have made him love her more. He cannot bear lose her love, he needs it now more than ever. He has become used to it.   
No. It is better she is angry.

He is not sure what she will do, if he were to enter her dreams again. Would she ever say ‘ar lath ma‘ again? Would she tear into him with her words again? Remain silent?   
He should not go see her again. He is unsettled, unbalanced, hovering over a chasm.   
She said she was healing. She had told him she did not know when she would be ok. What if something was wrong? Worry gnaws at him.   
He seeks her dream, just long enough to feel her presence, the solidity of her soul in the fade. If she senses him, he is gone before she has a chance to react.

He must continue his path, heavy as it is. He _must_ believe this is right solution. It is right? The letter she wrote crinkles under his fingers as he smooths out his tunic.

It is a new agent that delivers the latest news of Fiona’s mages. He is surprised, this girl was doing something quite different a week ago.   
“Where is Airdan?” he asks.

“My Lord, he… left”, she answers hesitant.

“Left? Where is he now?” He wonders if he will have to track him down.

“I… I’m sorry, my Lord, I prefer not to say”, she looks down, afraid. “He isn’t compromising us, he just needed to do something different, with the baby and all. He was afraid… his wife is shem, you know.” It rushes out of her. She looks on the verge of bolting for the door. Then she adds, almost defiant: “Please don’t hurt them.”

“Did you really think… of course I won’t!” He is suddenly angry. “Leave.” Did she really think he woiuld hurt a babe! Is that what they think of him? Is that what he has become? The monster the Dalish make him out to be?

He sits, heavily behind his desk. Straightens the papers in front of him. Then flings everything to the floor. An inkwell shatters, ink running on the floor. A cup of stale tea breaks, liquid splashing everywhere. He sinks his head into his hands.

He IS NOT playing god!

Maylin comes running back with a broom and a mop.

“My Lord,” she says, “I can do this.”

He grabs the tools and ushers her away.

“No” he replies.

He has to use his hands. He has to get on his knees and clean up his mess. His hands are trembling as he picks up the pieces of broken glass and pottery.

He wants to work with his own hands, as he used to do. He liked himself better when he was Solas.


	6. Chapter 6

He doesn’t know how she will react when he shows up. He goes, like in a haze. The fortress is easy enough for him to slip into.  
He silently climbs the steps to her chambers. He feels heavier and lighter all at once when as he ascends.

The door is open and she is seated at her desk.

She stumbles up when she sees him. She moves to the front of the desk, her right arm tense behind her back.

“Fen’Harel?” she sounds unsure, shaken.

“No.” It is all he can say.

She softens her look, and a dagger she must have kept in her hand clatters to the floor.

“Solas,” she whispers and takes a step forward.  
Suddenly he is next to her.

“Vhenan…” he cups her face and strokes his hand over her shoulder.

“You came.”

He falls to his knees, revenant like a worshipper in front of his goddess. He is not worthy of her.

“Forgive me,” he wishers against the soft fabric of her shirt. He clutches his arms around her torso. “Forgive me, vhenan, forgive me. Ir abelas. Forgive me.”

“I already have, my love.”

“Ar lath ma,” it is all he can reply.

She slides to the ground too, her arm clutching him with equal ferocity. Her cheeks are covered with tears, and so is his.  

“Ar lath ma,” she whispers and kisses him.

He is drowning, he is rescued.

He is home.

My love, my love, my love, my love.


End file.
